I feel Killian’s grumbled response again and press my fingers to one of his shirt buttons, feeling the ridge press into the pad of my thumb. Then we’re outside and the chill of the night air skims across my bare skin like shards of glass. I can’t stop myself from shifting against Killian and I burrow harder against his chest. His arms tighten around me like a coil, and Ilikeit. I feel contained but… secure.
“I’m driving,” comes Archer’s voice again. “Niccolo is still with Dante, and as I said before, you can’t be trusted by yourself.” I like the way Killian’s chest seems to bubble as what seems like a chuckle escapes him. Then a car door slams, warm silence envelopes me, and the car starts.
We’re really leaving that place.
As we drive, I subtly shift myself against him, certain I can’t selfishly continue to soak up comfort from his lap. Any attempts to move, however, are stalled by his arms tightening further around me, holding me in place, and locking me against his chest.
“No,” he states, and it’s the first word I actually hear rather than feel.
It’s sharp and commanding, an instruction, and usually, I would fight against such a thing. But at this moment, it brings me a swell of relief, and my shoulders slump as I relax back into his hold. I’m too tired to fight such a thing; while his arms are tight, caging me in, it doesn’t feel as repressive as those ropes were. He could crush me right this second and I’d still be this warm and cozy.
As we drive, his strong thighs that were like stone underneath me, start to soften as the tension leaves his body. The rapid movement of his chest slows, and when he lets out a deep sigh, it sounds like he had been holding it for a very long time. Yet, as his body slacks around me, his thick arms remain iron and protective.
“Cara, wake up.”
Killian’s deep, warm voice seeps into my soul, and his lips brush lightly against the shell of my ear, drawing me from a nap I didn’t even register. I yawn and stretch out my limbs, resting against him as I peer out the window to a building I don’t recognize.
This time when I try to move from Killian’s lap, he allows me to but only so he can open the door and step from the car himself.
“What is this place?” I ask, wobbling over the gravel pathway as I follow him up to a simple oak door. The house itself doesn’t look that fancy; it’s a small white building with arched windows on either side of the door and a wooden porch with various plants dotted around it.
“It’s a safe house,” Killian replies as he unlocks the door. I glance back at the car to see Archer leaning against the vehicle on a phone call before Killian’s hand presses against the small of my back and guides me inside.
The entranceway is deep oak with a black rug on the floor. To my right, there’s a doorway and stairs leading upwards, and to my left, there’s a hallway with two doors and an archway at the end. It’s smaller and doesn’t screamrich,but as Killian guides me towards the stairs, I note the gold detailing on the chandelier above the door.Lavish, just discrete,I think to myself.
“We’re staying here?” I ask as I climb the stairs. Killian follows behind me so close that the heat radiating from his body warms my back.
“Yes,” he replies shortly and his voice is tight. “My apartment isruined. Destroyed by those bastards and… and tainted by what happened. I won’t ever be going back there.” I glimpse a dark shadow on his face as he passes me by and guilt stabs sharply through my stomach. It’s my fault his home is ruined. My guards did this.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, but he doesn’t respond.
He leads me to the bedroom with deep chocolate walls, large bay windows draped in black curtains, and a large four-poster bed draped in deep red sheets centered in the room. Oak furniture lines one wall, and the room feels warm, almost intimate. Through to the quaint ensuite, we come to a stop. There’s a wall-hanging mirror with a rustic sink underneath to my right, but the taps sparkle with a gold color which hints at the costly expense. The toilet is tinted rose; just above it sits a large frosted glass window draped in a plain net curtain. To my left is a large walk-in shower with light rose-colored tiles skittering in a pattern up the wall.
Killian is watching me with hard eyes, a look that causes my heart to leap into my throat and beat so hard that I can’t trust myself to open my mouth. His clothes are stained in blood, and as he comes toward me, I catch sight of wounds and bruises on his knuckles. He looks like a too-large spring stuffed into too small a suit, ready to snap and lash out at any moment.
Yet when his fingers finally make contact, there’s a gentleness to his touch. He brushes over the bruises on my forearm, then lifts his hand to cup my cheek and runs his thumb gently over the split in my lower lip. I’m surprised when it doesn’t sting. He follows the touch up to my hairline and then around into my hair to locate the small lump I now have from being struck. Even that touch doesn’t hurt as much.
And the closer he is, the more my skin hums with energy. Like sparks will fly the moment he lights the flame.
“How do you feel? Do you need to see a doctor?” he asks as he comes to face me again, and I shake my head.
Before I can say anything, he pushes my arms away from my body and grabs my t-shirt by the hem, lifting it away from my body. Despite the tenderness in the action, the energy running over my skin feels almost too much, and I sharply push his hands away and step back.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m trying to help you,” Killian replies calmly, but I can see the irritation swelling in his eyes.
“I don’t need your help undressing. I’m notbroken,” I snap. I don’t know where this surge of hostility has come from, especially since Killian is the one that got me out of that place and brought me somewhere safe.
It’s not his fault, but I need an outlet before it burns me up on the inside.
“Get out!” I snap, and the tenderness in Killian’s face vanishes. He hardens immediately and I can see the muscles bunching under his shoulders.
“Cara–,” he tries, but I cut him off.
“Get out!” I yell again; this time, my eyes sting, and a bubble crawls up my throat.
“You know, Cara,” Killian states, and that sharp edge I’m so used to hearing slips back into his voice. “You need to be careful. Your father is losing control, and you are rapidly running out of people to trust. If you’re not careful, you’re going to be left with no one that gives a shit.”